When Blood Sings
by L. Greene
Summary: Karkat Vantas is a mutant grub sent to Alternia for one purpose: to act as the Great Equalizer and destroy the blood caste system. Unfortunately, the caste system isn't the only thing to be destroyed. M for language and later sexual content.
1. THE DOLOROSA

**Here it is, the first chapter of my pre-Hivebent fic. Before we begin, the characters are as follows:**

**Meenah Peixes:** Her Imperious Condescension/The Condesce; **Feferi Peixes:** The Princess; **Cronus Ampora:** Orphaner Dualscar; **Eridan Ampora:** The Eleventh; **Kurlas Makara (genderbent Kurloz): **The Grand Highblood; **Gamzee Makara:** The Young Highblood (also known derogatorily as The Soporite); **Equius Zahhak:** E%ecutor Darkleer; **Horuss Zahhak:** The Engineer; **Aranea Serket:** Marquise Spinneret Mindfang; **Vriska Serket:** The Scorpion; **Latula Pyrope:** Judicate Redglare; **Terezi Pyrope:** Neophyte Redglare; **Kanaya Maryam: **The Dolorosa; **Porrim Maryam:** The Inspired; **Meulon Leijon (genderbent Meulin):** The Follower; **Nepeta Leijon:** The Disciple; **Karkat Vantas:** The Signless (later, The Sufferer); **Kankri Vantas:** The Singular; **Mituna Captor:** Redshine; **Sollux Captor:** Blueglow (the Captors are known collectively as The Ψiioniix and, later, The Helmsmen); **Rufioh Nitram:** The Summoner; **Tavros Nitram:** The Flighted; **Aradia Megido:** The Handmaid; **Damara Megido:** The Explorer; **John Egbert:** The Finalist; **Rose Lalonde:** The Grimseer; **Dave Strider:** The Musician; and **Jade Harley:** The Huntress.

**Each chapter will follow a different character, and these titles (except for the Captors') are all first titles, or titles as they stand at the beginning of the fic.**

* * *

_**The Dolorosa**_

The harsh Alternian sun beat down on Kanaya Maryam's skin, but far from fretting about the jade-green sweat beading up, she reveled in its warmth. Right now, the transport paths were deserted as trolls remained shut up in their hives—Kanaya was one of the few who could stand being in the sunlight. She walked along the path, glancing this way and that every so often, more out of habit than anything else, since the only other trolls she saw during the day were among the peasantry—and her own sister, of course. She usually took this daily constitutional with her sister Porrim, but today, her younger sister had been unusually tired. The Mother Grub was getting ready to hatch a new clutch of grubs, and considering the time of the sweep, it would only be a matter of weeks.

Kanaya was one of the more higher-ranking of the jade bloods who tended to the Mother Grub, so she was often spared the more menial tasks associated with the younger trolls. She didn't mind the work—it was what she'd been hatched for, after all—but the sweeps seemed to pass by faster and faster. Aging was not a heavy concern for her because she was still fairly young for her blood color (the lower castes would consider her old, and the fuchsia-blooded Empress and her sister would consider her to be barely older than a wiggler), but sometimes, she couldn't help but feel that she was destined for something greater than what she had here.

Which was why she went on her walks. She had hoped that happenstance would bring her upon some glorious purpose for her life that she couldn't realize otherwise, but after nearly three sweeps, she had seen little of import.

Today, though, she had a different goal. She had seen in the wee hours of the morning something that looked like a meteor impact. Kanaya hoped no one had gotten to the site first, but she wasn't unduly concerned—it had happened while everyone else was getting ready to shut themselves in for the day, so she could only imagine that they had all been far too busy.

Walking toward the site of the impact, a sense of excitement overtook her, so much so that she completely missed the white-gold flash behind one of the trees far to her right. As soon as she cleared the small hive cluster where she lived, she broke into a near run in her haste to make it to the site, her curiosity increasing by the minute.

She soon slowed as she realized how far off the crater was and how long she'd have to walk. She would have to conserve her energy. She could see the crater from here, but when it didn't grow as quickly as she expected it would, she felt a tinge of disappointment.

Finally, she swept the heaviest layer of her clothing—her cape—over her head and carried it over her shoulder. Her body temperature dropped soon enough and she could breathe a little easier now. The sweat on her skin cooled her further, and not for the first time, she was grateful that there were so few trolls who could stand the daylight. She liked night well enough, but the quiet of the day was something that could only be experienced—never described.

Kanaya drew level with the lip of the crater. She folded her cape neatly and set it on the ground before creeping to the edge and peering down, her heart rate beginning to pick up with excitement.

She didn't know what she expected—perhaps the beginning of a brutal alien swarm, the kind Her Imperious Condescension was always warning the Alternians about, reminding them of their need for an Imperial Fleet—but it certainly wasn't what she saw. She let out a squeak of horror, her heart in her throat, and scrambled over the lip of the crater to slide down the side as fast as she could.

There, in the middle, covered by soil and grass was, unmistakeably, a grub! Terror coursed through her, worry over the tiny little thing. There was no way it could have survived an impact like that, no possible way at all, but she still had to check on it. The mother instinct in her jade blood pushed her closer until she dropped to her knees and scooped up the little grub.

"_Ooop_." The tiny sound escaped the grub, and Kanaya nearly dropped it in surprise. It was _alive_? How was that possible?

It opened its eyes and looked around before its gaze settled on her. She felt her heart move with pity over the little thing—this was more than just a regular grub. Based on its eye and carapace color, it had some strange mutation—bright, candy-red blood that was never seen in common society. This would never do. If The Condesce's drones found this one, they would cull it immediately.

"Where did you come from?" Kanaya asked softly, as if the little wiggler could answer, and she looked up, searching the sky for a response and finding none. She looked back down at it—she couldn't be sure while the grub was so young, but she thought it was male—and wondered what she should do. In her heart of hearts, she believed that culling the defenseless was wrong, which was where she differed from troll society. Most Alternians believed that culling the weak was good, it enhanced the strength of the race, it created the fiercest fighters in the galaxy, but she could never convince herself that a society who ignored those most in need, who divided its citizens based on blood color, would survive for long.

She knew what she had to do.

She looked around the edge of the crater, trying to find the easiest slope to climb one-handed. It certainly wasn't back where she'd come from—no, she'd have to go around to a different side. Even then, the going was very slow, and it took her nearly ten minutes to scale the wall and ease the little grub as gently as she could onto the grass before dragging herself over the side and flopping back on the ground for a few moments to catch her breath.

When she looked at him, he was looking back at her, a tiny, bubbly smile on his face. She sat up and picked him up again, cradling him close to her chest. She had to raise this wiggler, she knew—but what would Porrim say? It was crucial that she had her sister's help. If Porrim breathed a word of this to the wrong troll, both Kanaya and the grub would be culled. It was dangerous, but she had to help him.

She located her folded-up cape in the grass, shook it out, and swaddled the little grub in it as snugly as she dared. She didn't want to cover his face, but she realized the importance of it. If anyone saw, it would be over.

Before she made the final tuck, though, she looked down at him and gave him a small kiss on his cartilaginous nub. "It's okay, little one. Shoosh, don't fret. I'll be your lusus. Porrim and I both will be your lusii. You'll be just fine, my darling."

He whimpered but didn't struggle as she pulled the fabric of her cape over his face. "I've got you," she whispered.

Reassuring herself that everything would be fine, she started back toward her and Porrim's hive.

* * *

Kanaya heard her sister's sigh from the entertainment block as soon as the entrance portal opened. "I'm delighted that you've returned, sister," Porrim called. "My head has been paining me terribly. I need—what the almighty fuck is _that_?" she asked as she caught sight of the bundle in Kanaya's arms. Her air of dignity dropped at a moment's notice.

"Shoosh, please," Kanaya pleaded, glancing back at the portal as if expecting drones to burst through any second. "You'll wake him."

"Wake... who?"

She hurried to Porrim, who stood up, and Kanaya pulled back the cape from the grub's face. Her sister gasped and covered her mouth.

"Where did _that_ come from?"

"The crater—remember that explosion we saw earlier this morning?"

Porrim nodded, her eyes never leaving the grub in Kanaya's arms.

"I think he was what landed. He's alive, though. And I don't know why, but I think... he's special."

Porrim nodded again, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. "So what will we do?"

Kanaya was relieved. Now that her sister had calmed down slightly, she seemed to be on her side. The grub, meanwhile, had fallen asleep on the walk back, and remained asleep now, but Kanaya didn't know for how long. The poor thing would be hungry very soon. "We raise him, be his lusii. We cannot tell anyone, though. The drones will cull us and him. So... will you help me?"

Porrim nodded immediately. "Of course." She gingerly reached out and ran her fingers over the grub's head. Her gaze softened to something akin to tenderness while she looked at him. "Can I... hold him?"

Kanaya handed off the grub to her sister. Her arms had been getting tired—it wasn't that the grub was particularly heavy, but she was used to carrying hatchlings, and he seemed to be a little older than that, maybe a quarter of a sweep old, if that.

The motion jostled the grub and he squirmed, opening his eyes. Porrim gasped again, and then pulled back the rest of the cape to get a good look at his carapace. "Kanaya. He's a mutant!"

"I know," Kanaya said. "But he'll be culled all the same. Look at him—he's clearly no longer a hatchling anymore, and even if he were, the Mother Grub hasn't laid any eggs yet. They'll know he's a freak just by looking at him. I don't know where he came from or how he got here, but, Porrim, he's special. We must care for him."

"He won't have trials."

"The drones would cull him, and he'll be too old by the time this clutch enters their trials. Having this bright-red blood... don't you think that's trial enough? It's a trial he'll have to live with every day for all his sweeps."

"I've never seen anyone with his blood color have a sign," Porrim pointed out, referring to the identical symbol both she and Kanaya wore, denoting their jade-green blood and their status in Alternian society.

"Signless, I know. Porrim, please, you said you would help."

"That was before I knew he was a mutant!"

As if on cue, the grub hiccuped and began to cry. Kanaya snatched him out of Porrim's arms and cradled him close. "Please, get some of the milk from the thermal hull—I think he's hungry."

"You mean the fridge?" Porrim grumbled, heading to the sustenance block all the same.

Porrim was always trying to get Kanaya to call things by their "proper," high-blooded names, but Kanaya could never remember the terms. The low-blooded terms were just fine for her.

Porrim returned from the sustenance block with a feeding cylinder from one of the previous sweep's hatchings filled with milk. She handed the feeding cylinder to Kanaya, who adjusted the wiggler until he could eat comfortably. Almost immediately, he stopped crying.

Porrim sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "I don't know, sister. I'm not sure this is such a good idea."

"I understand your concern, sister, but I couldn't just leave him out there for the drones to cull him. This isn't like a typical culling during the trials. He was out there in the nature assemblage, in the middle of a crater. I don't know why, but he was meant for something great, and we have to care for him."

"He's a mutant."

"What if only a mutant can do what he is intended to do?"

Porrim sighed, and Kanaya knew she'd finally persuaded her. "What will we call him?"

Kanaya looked down at the wiggler, who was close to halfway finished with the feeding cylinder and slowing fast. He looked like he was ready to nod off. "Karkat. His name will be Karkat Vantas."

* * *

**So... if you can't use context clues and figure out what trollian terms mean what, let me know and I'll explain in the next chapter.**


	2. THE PRINCESS

**Well, here it is, the second chapter. I wanted this up a few days ago, but I want to keep updating "Coming to Terms" before I do this one. A note about this chapter: Meenah's talking style is really hard for me to convey, so if there's something I did wrong, please tell me (as respectfully as possible)!**

**Many thanks to obsessed01616, Bitblondetoday, Rand0mAn0nym0u2, SmileyFacesSmile, and one guest for your reviews to the last chapter!**

* * *

_**The Princess**_

Feferi Peixes had been found by the Imperial Lusus when her sister, Her Imperious Condescension, was nearing her thirty-sixth wriggling day. The Condesce, as Feferi's sister was known, hadn't been ruler of Alternia long—just about twenty-two sweeps—but she already had the entire planet easily under her control. Feferi didn't remember much of her first sweep or two since she was still reeling from the trials and didn't say anything until she was nearly three, but by the time she realized who her sister ("I'm Meenah, girl, you don't call me 'The Condesce,' you ma' sista', got it?") was, she wished she was back facing her trials.

Meenah started teaching Feferi from an early age how to handle ruling an entire people. It wasn't easy, she said, but due to their fuchsia blood, they were the only ones capable of it. All other blood colors in the hemospectrum were below them—it was their _duty_ to rule. To rule properly, she added, Feferi would have to understand the Alternian past, and Meenah brought in scores of blue-blooded tutors to teach her everything she would need to know.

Feferi learned early on that, hundreds of sweeps ago, the terms for siblings hadn't even been thought of. Once, lusii raised one grub at a time because more grubs were being culled in the trials and there were almost too many lusii compared to trolls, but gradually, a shift happened. The troll race strengthened and more grubs survived the trials and crawled out of the cave of the Mother Grub, while lusii began diminishing in number.

The first known case of troll siblings happened around a hundred sweeps before. Appropriately, it was a set of royal-blooded siblings (not fuchsia-bloods, but almost as high on the hemospectrum). Mediri Ofelso had been about seven sweeps old when, while walking with her lusus, they discovered a wiggler with the same body color as Mediri's blood, and at first, she thought it was some mistake.

But it wasn't, and the grub grew up to be Sorana Ofelso, a great adviser to the empress before Meenah. Mediri helped her lusus raise Sorana since she was essentially grown herself, less than a sweep away from being a full adult, but in many ways, they were still sisters.

Soon, more and more instances of troll siblings came about, grubs being raised in twos or even threes by their lusus, and they were mostly either all brothers or all sisters, but sometimes, mixed-gender siblings cropped up. Sometimes troll siblings would fight and there were one or two stories of siblings attempting to cull one another, but for the most part, it was a peaceful transition, especially for the lower-blooded trolls whose siblings were hatched within a sweep or two of them. It was also much easier for two trolls to handle one lusus together.

In fact, now the standard was for sibling trolls, and those few who were left without siblings were discovered to live for fewer sweeps than trolls who had a brother or sister. One hypothesis to explain this phenomenon was that trolls left alone didn't learn as early on how to interact with others and ended up getting culled, although there was nothing to prove it.

Another shift in regards to the concept of troll siblings came in the form of romantic quadrants—or, rather, a non-shift, because troll siblings had also become known to form relationships in all four quadrants with their sibling, although moirallegiance and auspiticism was far more common than matespritship and kismesissitude. Concupiscent relationships weren't uncommon, though.

Still, the more Feferi learned about the brutal history of Alternia, the more sure she became that she had to do something to change it. She couldn't do anything about it now since she was still The Princess and her sister was The Condesce (and unless her sister died early, Feferi wouldn't rule for very long before she, too, died), but she knew she had to do something.

But for now, at nine sweeps old, all she could do was smile and nod and learn her lessons and pretend for Meenah's sake that she was being a good little heiress because while Feferi found the blood caste system to be tiresome and ridiculous, Meenah put all her stock in it and believed eventually that the lower blood colors on the hemospectrum would die out, no matter what kind of crazy abilities developed in the lower strata. But Feferi wanted to learn about all her subjects, not just the high-bloods, so she'd proposed an idea to her sister.

When she originally approached Meenah with her suggestion, she'd expected resistance from The Condesce, but nothing quite like what she received.

"Sister," she said, crouching down next to Meenah's throne. "I _min-now_ you've been preparing me to rule one day, so I thought it would be a _reel_ly good _op-perch-tuna-ty_ if I were to travel around and _sea_ the other trolls in and world and get to _glub_ with them. I be_reef_ it would help me con_net_ with them," she said as quickly and respectfully as possible. She sat back and waited as her sister appeared to think over her proposal, lightly tapping the bottom of her 2x3dent on the floor.

Finally, she turned her head in Feferi's direction, sending waves through her hair and the clinking of all her jewelry—necklaces, earrings, rings, and bracelets—through the nearly-empty Throne Room. A few blue-blooded Defenders paced the perimeter but otherwise paid no attention to the Peixeses' conversation.

"Uh-uh, girl," Meenah said quietly, and that alone was enough to make Feferi want to run—The Condesce only dropped her voice like that when she was really angry. "You ain't goin' any_wharf_, trust me. You still gotta lot to learn before you go _swimmin_' around an' mixin' with the low-bloods, so..." She got to her feet and Feferi immediately stood up, feeling her collapsing and expanding bladder-based aquatic vascular system begin to work overtime. Meenah was still a head taller than her and had thirty-six sweeps and far more combat experience than her, and Feferi suddenly remembered this all at once and wished she hadn't said anything. Her first instinct was to back away slowly, but that would probably only infuriate The Condesce further, and when Meenah turned toward her, she found that she was rooted to the spot anyway. "Why don't you go _splash_ off before I _make_ you _splash_ off?"

Feferi nodded quickly and absconded from the Throne Room as quickly as possible, ashamed of herself for the fear she felt. Her sister had engaged the previous Alternian empress in combat and wrested the crown away from her, an old custom, but Feferi knew she couldn't win against her sister, and Meenah knew it, too, which was why she kept her close. Feferi wouldn't be able to take down Meenah—she would only inherit the throne after Meenah died, whether by natural causes or someone else's hand.

She didn't stop running until she arrived in front of her blocks. She pushed open the entrance portal, shoved it closed behind her, and sank to a limp pile on the floor. Still trembling from terror, she drew her knees up to her chest and bit her lip, trying not to cry. She'd witnessed her sister impaling trolls on her 2x3dent for frankly stupid reasons, but she didn't honestly believe Meenah would try to kill _her_ over something so trivial. Despite this, she wasn't convinced that one day Meenah wouldn't try to kill her. If she ever attempted it, she would probably succeed. Feferi's only defense was to remain of more use to her alive than dead, and right now, it seemed she was.

Meenah would send her as an emissary in her stead to quell very minor issues that some of the high-bloods had or as a representative at openings of museums or schools or stores. Meenah always went to the bakery openings herself, though—for reasons Feferi could never fathom, Meenah loved baking.

But for pretty much all of her life, Feferi's only companion had been Meenah. She would sometimes log onto Trollian and chat with strangers on the internet, but she never bonded with any of them. Trolls were supposed to have had a matesprit or a kismesis or even a moirail by now, but all of Feferi's quadrants had always remained unfilled, and she was incredibly lonely. She'd never even had a real friend—even excluding potential moirallegiances. She had a feeling that, if she had someone else who could soothe her, her sister wouldn't intimidate her so much.

She climbed into her recuperacoon, and even after she heard through her shellphone that Meenah had departed to call on The Grand Highblood, Feferi didn't bother getting out until she was summoned for supper. She ate alone since Meenah hadn't returned.

* * *

The Condesce didn't return until two nights later, shortly after nightbreak. Feferi got an update on her shellphone—as did everyone in the palace—informing her that Her Imperious Condescension had arrived back from visiting The Grand Highblood, and Feferi knew that her first stop would be the ingestion block, where Feferi currently was, for breakfast. She wolfed down two more bites of food before she heard her sister approaching and immediately stood up, waiting for Meenah's entrance. A few moments later, the entrance portal blew open and The Condesce strode in, tapping her 2x3dent on the floor as she crossed the block, heading right for Feferi. "Girl, come here an' give yo' sista' some suga'!" she called, flinging her arms wide.

Feferi was used to these moods, too. Meenah was clearly a lot more cheerful than she had been two nights before, and she knew that the only way to keep her happy was to give her what she wanted, so she dutifully approached and kissed her sister on both cheeks. "Good evening, Meenah," she said. "Did you have a good trip to _sea_ The Grand Highblood?"

"Oh, _that_ bitch? She great an' all, but it's _fin_tastic to be back here! I missed ma' little sista'!"

"Me, too," Feferi lied. "I'm glad you're back as _whale_."

"Ex_shell_ent! _Water_ we eatin' today?"

It took nearly an hour for Meenah to stop talking about what a _beach_ The Grand Highblood was (Feferi had never met her, so she reserved judgment) and what issues The Grand Highblood was having with the low-bloods (Feferi had a suspicion that Meenah and The Grand Highblood had a kismesissitude going, but she knew better than to openly surmise on her sister's love life) and bring the conversation around to what she'd probably intended to tell Feferi in the first place.

"Oh, so while I was _glubbin'_ with The Grand Highbitch, I may a' mentioned yo' little suggestion about tourin' Alternia."

Feferi wanted to drop her head to the nutrition platform and groan. She knew already that it was a mistake—she didn't need Meenah telling The Grand Highblood about it, too. "I _sea_," she said quietly instead, forcing herself to keep looking at Meenah.

"Yeah, an' The Grand Highboob actually _fins_ it a halfway decent idea," Meenah went on. "She _glubbed_ me into seein' yo' point a' view on the whole fuckin' idea, an' I think I'ma let you do it."

Feferi couldn't believe it—Meenah had actually changed her mind on something. Meenah was actually _letting Feferi do something_! For a second, she was frozen, unsure if Meenah was playing an elaborate prank, but her sister seemed to be looking at her expectantly, so she asked, "R-_reel_ly?"

"Yeah, _reel_ly. Yo' right, you _min-now_. You gotta go out an' see the trolls you gonna rule eventually. Might as _whale_ do it now. Besides, it's about time you got outta the palace here—you been cooped up here for sweeps."

Still in shock, Feferi managed to choke out a thank you. Suddenly, she was swept by the nearly-overwhelming urge to run right out of the block and out of the palace and swim as far as she could. The air had a strange taste to it that almost seemed like freedom, and she just knew that this would be the start of something great. "So, when will I go?" she asked.

"To_marlin_," Meenah said simply. "You gonna meet up with The Grand Highblood's brother, The Young Highblood, an' he's gonna show you around Alternia since he been out there before. So you should go pack pretty quick."

Feferi nodded quickly, took one last bite—joy had filled her stomach far better than food—and absconded from the ingestion block in a much better mood than the last time she'd left her sister.

She hoped she would like The Young Highblood. Who knew? She might even find a moirail out of this whole situation.

* * *

**Oh, my cod, so many fish puns. HOW THE FUCK DO I FISH PUNS HELP.**

**Next chapter will focus on Eridan and Cronus, so that should be fun. (And in case you missed the cast list in the previous chapter, The Grand Highblood is a genderbent Kurloz. I mostly just wanted to call her The Grand Highboob a few thousand times, because my headcanon Kurlas has an impressive rack. Even Meenah notices it.)**


	3. ORPHANER DUALSCAR

**So I got this chapter up sooner than I expected... yesssss.**

**Many thanks to ICan'tAlwaysBeWitty and obsessed01616 for your reviews to Chapter 2!**

* * *

_**Orphaner Dualscar**_

"Breathe," Cronus instructed. "You always have to remember that. It's the most important thing. In the heat a' battle, you'd be surprised at what's instinctual an' what isn't. Okay?"

"Okay." Eridan exhaled slowly, making a point of it so his brother would know how serious he was.

"Okay." Cronus smiled. "Bring the Crosshairs up, just below eye level. You should be able to do it one-handed eventually, but you're not that strong yet, so two hands is fine." He demonstrated with Ahab's Crosshairs as Eridan mimicked him with Starbuck's Crosshairs. It was a smaller, less-impressive version of his older brother's Ahab's Crosshairs, but it suited Cronus's purpose for training him. "Right hand," Cronus added, lowering his Crosshairs to correct Eridan. "Not the left hand. That puts you at a disadvantage."

"But I'm left-handed," Eridan protested. Cronus resisted the urge to cuff him over the head for whining. Eridan was nearing eight sweeps old now—almost an adult—and though he still whined like a wiggler sometimes, Cronus had to remind himself that he _wasn't_ a wiggler. The whining was something Cronus would have to fix, though. It wouldn't do for Orphaner Dualscar's younger brother to behave like a giant grub, even if in terms of his lifespan he still practically _was_ a grub.

"Doesn't matter," Cronus snapped. "You wanna be comfortable or you wanna survive a fight? Right hand."

Visibly sulking, Eridan switched his firing and non-firing hands.

Cronus nearly rolled his eyes, but he told himself that at least Eridan had listened to him. "Good. I know it feels uncomfortable now, but if you do it enough, it'll come naturally," he added, more gently.

Seeing Eridan standing there with a smaller replica of Ahab's Crosshairs in his hands filled Cronus with a strange mix of pride and sadness. He couldn't believe it had already been seven and a half sweeps since his lusus had found this little wiggler, seven and a half sweeps since he'd named the annoying little sauce-stain and taken him under his proverbial fin to teach him everything he knew. Even now, while Cronus had nine sweeps on him, Eridan was just shorter than him by a few hairs. He even had a title of his own. While Cronus had become known as Orphaner Dualscar, Eridan was The Eleventh. Cronus wasn't exactly sure how his brother had come by that title, but at this point, he didn't care all that much. His little wiggler brother was practically all grown up, and if Cronus was harsh with him, it was only because he wanted Eridan to survive past ten.

But the times when Cronus could say, "Do what I say because I say so" were long past. Even before he hit six sweeps, he was refusing to do just about anything unless Cronus explicitly stated why. It was annoying, but at the same time, once Eridan _knew_ why something was important—feeding their lusus, field-stripping their weapons, even cleaning up the hive—he didn't question it again. He supposed that was a good thing. Sometimes, though, he just wished Eridan would listen to him without asking _why_.

"Okay." Cronus brought Ahab's Crosshairs back up, using two hands to demonstrate proper technique although he didn't need to use both hands. This was for Eridan's benefit. "Crosshairs below eye level. Locate your target visually, without using the sights on the weapon," he said, referring to the two targets twenty yards away. One was for him, the other was for Eridan. "Got it?"

"Got it," Eridan confirmed.

"Once you've identified your target, raise the Crosshairs, use the sights to aim, an' fire. When you—"

_PCHOOOOO._

Cronus slowly lowered Ahab's Crosshairs and looked at Eridan's target. He hadn't even gotten _close_ to hitting it. He was about a half-dozen yards to the right, and three or four yards high. He let out a frustrated groan. "Damn it, Eridan, I wasn't _finished_!" Again, he very nearly smacked the back of Eridan's head, and again, he resisted, but barely.

"Sorry," Eridan mumbled, flushing purple in embarrassment.

Cronus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free and and sucked in several steadying, calming breaths. "Put the Crosshairs down," he said, not opening his eyes.

He heard the light clatter of Eridan setting Starbuck's Crosshairs on the ground.

"Okay. Now you are gonna listen to me until I'm finished talkin', got it?"

"Got it."

"First, go an' retrieve that harpoon you just lost."

Eridan dashed off immediately, and Cronus finally opened his eyes, heaving another sigh. He was really trying not to be angry with his brother, but Eridan had a habit of getting excited about things and jumping the proverbial harpoon gun. It was an assured way of fucking everything up. There was so much Cronus had already taught him, and so much he had left to teach him.

Eridan returned almost ten minutes later with the harpoon in hand. His shirt was torn in two places—down the shoulder and across the middle—and he looked even more flustered than he did when he'd left. Still, he'd found the harpoon.

"Any damage to it?" Cronus was perfectly fine if a harpoon was ruined in battle or in target practice if it actually hit the right target, but if Eridan had wrecked it in a foolish mistake, he would be angry.

"No." Eridan held it out for his brother's inspection. Cronus only gave it a cursory glance—he'd be able to tell right away if the harpoon had been damaged, and it clearly hadn't.

"Good. Reseat it."

Eridan scrambled to pick up his Starbuck's Crosshairs and load the harpoon into the chamber. Once he'd closed it with a loud click, he looked at Cronus expectantly.

"Alright. Let's take it from the top. Watch me, but don't do _anythin'_ until I say so. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Okay. Breathin'—make sure you're always breathin'. Do _not_ hold your breath—your hand will shake an' it'll throw off your aim. Bring the Crosshairs up to just below eye level." He brought Ahab's Crosshairs up smoothly to demonstrate. "Eyes on target. Sights on target." He closed his left eye, centered the horned hoofbeastseye in the sights, and exhaled. "Once you have the target in sight, squeeze the trigger while you exhale." He let out another slow, deliberate breath, wrapping his index finger around the trigger, and squeezed. There wasn't much recoil on the Crosshairs to compensate for, and the harpoon shot out the end with another _PCHOOOOO_ sound. A split second later, the harpoon was embedded in the dead center of the target. Cronus released the trigger, lowered the Crosshairs, and looked at Eridan. "It's a lot to remember, I know, but it's all gonna be instinct if you do it enough. You gotta keep on practicing. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good. Now listen very carefully. I want you to do exactly what I did, an' I want you to say the steps as you go along. Got it?"

"Got it." Eridan gave him a searching look, waiting for the order to actually do it.

"Alright. Go ahead."

"Okay. Breathe." Eridan let out a breath that could have almost been a sigh. "Bring the Crosshairs up to just below eye level." He drew up Starbuck's Crosshairs. The weapon trembled slightly; Eridan's arms strained under the weight. Cronus made a note of it. They'd have to work on Eridan's arm strength if he was going to get better at this. "Eyes on target." Eridan stared down the target. "Sights on target." He raised the Crosshairs a couple of inches to stare down the bore. Eridan's right eye closed, and again, Cronus was forcibly reminded that Eridan was left-handed. Lefties typically had strong left eyes when aiming. It was far less common for a right-handed shooter to have a strong left eye—it would certainly complicate things for Eridan, but one thing Cronus couldn't do was make Eridan aim with his right eye. Weak-eye aiming was sure to fail. "Exhale. Squeeze trigger." Eridan let out another slow, deliberate breath and fired.

_PCHOOOOO_.

This time, the harpoon found its way to Eridan's target. Admittedly, it was now stuck in one of the outer rings, but at least it had hit the target this time. It was still pretty far to the right, but that could be fixed.

Eridan lowered the Crosshairs, grinning triumphantly, and looked at his brother expectantly.

Cronus couldn't help smiling—Eridan's was infectious. "That was much better. Good job. Do it again. An' this time, when you're usin' your sights to aim, drag to the left."

Eridan nodded quickly and brought Starbuck's Crosshairs back up. His eyes locked on the target, he raised the Crosshairs a little more, his right eye closed, and then the barrel of the Crosshairs swung a few inches to the left. Cronus heard Eridan exhale slowly, and then he fired again.

_PCHOOOOO._

"Wow," Cronus said, eyeing the target. "I call that a cull-shot."

This time, Eridan had managed to seat the harpoon in almost the dead center of the target. It certainly wasn't as perfect a shot as Cronus had demonstrated, but it was a pretty big improvement considering that fifteen minutes before, he'd shot the harpoon yards clear of the target. Besides, if the target had been a troll, they would be dead or close to it right about now.

Eridan looked so pleased with himself that Cronus couldn't resist ruffling his hair a bit. He shouldered Ahab's Crosshairs and opened his mouth to tell Eridan to fire again when, off in the distance, they both heard a low rumbling. They turned and stared in the direction of the sound.

Cronus's collapsing and expanding bladder-based aquatic vascular system began pounding harder. Those were engines—he could hear the low throb of motors and the high shriek of gears—and they were getting closer. Still staring up at the sky, he grabbed Eridan by the sleeve and yanked him bodily toward the edge of the clearing.

"Starbuck's Cross—" Eridan started, protesting loudly to be heard over the engines, but Cronus cut him off.

"Forget the damn Crosshairs! I don't know who the fuck that is, comin' up here like that, but I don't wanna be out here in the fuckin' open in case they're not friendly!" he shouted back, finally shoving Eridan against the nearest tree. Less than thirty seconds later, a huge ship passed overhead, her engines running so loudly that he had to drop Ahab's Crosshairs to the ground to cover his ears. He glanced at Eridan and was relieved to see that his brother was covering his ears, too. He looked back up and stared—now he recognized that red-hulled monstrosity with the huge trident painted on her.

_The Condesce._ That was Her Imperious Condescension's flagship, _Battleship Condescension_. Cronus didn't realize it was possible for his collapsing and expanding bladder-based aquatic vascular system to work any harder than it already was, but upon realizing who was floating above him this very second, it began to race.

He was stupidly flushed for The Condesce, although, he supposed, so was half of Alternia. The other half probably harbored some strong caliginous feelings for her, so she no doubt had her share of suitors. Still, it was his goal to one day join her crew, and then, possibly, he could win her flushed affections that way. He just had to figure out _how_.

"Cro? You okay?" Eridan asked.

Cronus blinked. He realized he couldn't see The Condesce's ship anymore and the sound of her engines were fading. He dropped his hands from his ears. "Yeah. Just fine." He picked up Ahab's Crosshairs and brushed it off. "I'm... I'm goin' back to the hive to get more harpoons. You keep practicin', got it?"

"Got it."

They split up, Eridan trudging back to where he'd left Starbuck's Crosshairs on the ground and Cronus heading back to their hive. The walk served to clear his think-pan—it wasn't every day that The Condesce passed by, and having her so close had upset his think-pan. He wasn't used to feeling this vulnerable, but he knew he had to find some way to get close to her.

The walk back to the clearing where Eridan was doing target practice seemed to take longer than the walk from it. He had two quivers of harpoons, one slung over each shoulder, and he decided that they wouldn't be going back to the hive until every harpoon had found their way to Eridan's target. So far, his brother was two for three—he just hoped his little brother hadn't shot himself while he was gone. That would just figure.

_He's not a wiggler_, he reminded himself. Eridan was almost grown, and he certainly wasn't an idiot. Sure, he could act stupid sometimes, but he had a fair amount of common sense. He could take care of himself.

Cronus arrived at the clearing just in time to see Eridan loose three harpoons in quick succession. Every single one of them hit the center circle of the target, and Cronus almost bounded over to Eridan to congratulate him until he saw how his younger brother was standing.

Eridan had switched to firing with his left hand.

Cronus sighed and rubbed his temples. He had more work ahead of him than he thought.


	4. THE SOPORITE

**So here is the next chapter. I know I said I wanted to update "Coming to Terms" before I updated this, but I had a lot of Gamzee headcanons I needed to get out of the way.**

**Many thanks to FanficFinatic2, Kurotenshi Rayvnn, SmileyFacesSmile, and DarkBlueMahogany for your reviews to the last act (after I verbally berated you in the notes of "CtT," sorry!)!**

* * *

_**The Soporite**_

Gamzee Makara stood beside his sister, awaiting the imminent arrival of Her Imperious Condescension's ship—and her sister, The Princess. He couldn't help thinking that he needed to be much more soporified for this, but Kurlas had expressly forbidden him from indulging in his sopor pies. Ordinarily, this wouldn't have stopped him, but she'd actually found his secret stash and thrown them down the load gaper. He'd almost completely lost control of his temper, but he'd had enough of his sopor pies still running through his system that he just punched the wall and all was better afterward. Kurlas didn't even look concerned.

But the moment was gone now and annoyance with his sister was setting in—and not just with her. He was annoyed (and slowly growing irate) with everything about this situation. The last thing he wanted was to be waiting for some fuchsia-blooded nook-sniffer. He had nothing but trepidation regarding The Princess—he'd met The Condesce, after all. He knew what _she_ was like. Why would her sister be any different?

He should have been hatched a low-blood. Being a high-blood—The Young Highblood, in training to be The Grand Highblood after Kurlas went the way of the one-horned hoofbeast—was too much work, too much pomp, too much ceremony for him. He would have even taken being hatched a slightly-lower blue-blood, a regular blue-blood or something so he could still be a subjugglator or a laughsassin. But no, in a few dozen sweeps, he would be The Grand Highblood.

Off in the distance came the low throb of engines approaching, followed shortly thereafter by a great red prow—the front of the _Battleship Condescension—_rising over the horizon. Gamzee glanced up at his sister—their blood favored height over sanity, it appeared; despite being seven and a half sweeps old now, nearly grown, and tall for his age to boot, Kurlas was about a head and a half taller than him—but her face betrayed no flicker of emotion. He wondered again why his sister had agreed to this and, worse, decided that _he_ would be the one to escort The Princess on her tour of Alternia. He was the great embarrassment to high-bloods everywhere, after all.

_Whose motherfucking thought bubble _was_ this, anyway?_ he wondered. Whoever had masterminded this nefarious plot was truly an evil genius—whether it was his sister or her sister, she was a cold, calculating she-beast.

As the battleship approached, Gamzee's dread grew. He would have given anything to be anywhere but here right now. Even his lusus had absconded, although that was a common enough occurrence. Gamzee wished he could have gone with him.

Finally, the battleship touched down and trolls in the uniform of the Imperial Fleet began disembarking and bustling about. Amid the chaos, another figure descended, someone with a 3dent—not Her Imperious Condescension's 2x3dent, but a regular 3dent. It could only be The Princess. Gamzee tried to smile as politely as he could as The Princess walked toward them.

"Princess," Kurlas boomed, throwing open her arms. "It's such an honor to have you here."

To Gamzee's surprise, The Princess sank to one knee to answer. "Grand Highblood, the honor is all mine. And, from what Her Imperious Condescension tells me, I have _you_ to thank for this wonderful op-_perch-tuna_-ty." _Huh_, Gamzee thought. _His_ sister was apparently the cause of all this think-pan throbbing, The Princess had her sister's penchant for fish puns, and she was apparently at least concerned enough with appearances to seem polite. Then again, so was Kurlas—it was why she wasn't cursing up a sky-water event and why Gamzee had been essentially forbidden from talking. The Princess went on. "And you, Young Highblood. It's a great honor to meet you."

She was talking to _him_? Gamzee wasn't often rendered speechless, but right now, he couldn't seem to think of anything to say. At least, not until Kurlas elbowed him in the shoulder and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Fuckin' amazing to meet you, motherfucker."

The Princess looked stunned and Kurlas seemed ready to strangle him. "Go inside," she said quietly, dangerously, and Gamzee knew better than to argue. He turned around and headed right inside. Behind him, he heard Kurlas saying something to The Princess, and The Princess laughed. Good. At least his sister was able to smooth things over.

Well, now all there was left to do was wait until tomorrow, when this whole ordeal would truly begin. He hoped he wouldn't have to make an appearance until then, because he was going to hunt up some more sopor pies before he went ballistic.

* * *

He could barely choke down dinner. His stomach was growling with hunger, but regular food in large quantities (for him; regular quantities for normal people) made him sick. He tried to eat because his sister would glare at him when The Princess wasn't looking, but he knew he had to find some more sopor pies in a hurry.

He went right up to his respiteblock after dinner and sulked. His recuperacoon had long since been moved out on Kurlas's orders, replaced by a slab of soft material called a bed that, while comfortable, would not yield any of the soporific slime he needed. He'd developed the habit of sneaking into other people's respiteblocks while their respective occupants were out and stealing a little bit from their recuperacoons, and he'd only been caught once. Still, no one would dare yell at The Young Highblood save Kurlas.

Gamzee went to bed soon after dinner, still trembling from hunger but determinedly avoiding sneaking off to another respiteblock. He'd just fallen into a light doze when he heard the entrance portal creak open and he was instantly awake.

"Sorry," a familiar voice whispered. "Did I wake you?"

"Princess?"

"Yes, sorry," she said, closing the portal behind her. At first, he thought she'd left, but then he caught sight of her crossing the floor, looking around. "Small in here."

"I don't take up much motherfucking room," Gamzee said. "Sorry," he added quietly, remembering that he shouldn't curse around The Princess.

"You shouldn't censor yourself around me," The Princess said, finally settling onto the edge of Gamzee's bed. "Soon you'll be the second-most powerful troll on Alternia."

"Second to you."

"True, but..." The Princess ran her nails through her hair. "I'm not The Condesce. I wanted to meet the ones I'm to rule one day. My sister be_reefs_ it's better to be feared than loved... But I be_reef_ the opposite." She pressed down on the mattress, as if just noticing it. "What the _glub_ _is_ this?"

"It's called a motherfucking bed," Gamzee said.

"What's it for?"

"Sleeping."

She gave him a puzzled look. "There's a recuperacoon in my respiteblock. Why don't you have one?"

"I... I'm not allowed," he said quietly, drawing his knees up to his chest.

"Not allowed?"

"I eat the sopor slime."

"Why? You know you're not supposed to eat that, right?"

He did _not_ want to get into that story. Not with The Princess, and definitely not right now. He didn't answer.

"Okay, I'm sorry. That was rude of me."

"It's just a long motherfucking story."

"I'm sorry. Something bad?"

Gamzee nodded.

"Is your... bed comfortable?"

"A little," he admitted. "Not like a motherfucking recuperacoon, though."

"No, I would imagine not." She gave him a small smile. "I'm Feferi. Once, you know, your sister isn't around, you can call me by my name if you want."

He stared at her, his eyes going wide, and he nodded slowly. Telling someone your actual name was a big deal—he only knew his and Kurlas's names. And now The Princess's, it seemed. "I'm Gamzee."

Her smile widened. "Hello, Gamzee. It's nice to meet you. I hope we can be friends."

_Friends?_ He'd never had a real friend before. He couldn't wait to tell his lusus about this. He nodded happily as his stomach let out a long, low growl.

She gave him a concerned look. "You didn't eat at dinner," she said.

"Wasn't motherfucking hungry."

"You _shore?"_

He bit his lip. "Not for food."

"The sopor slime?"

He nodded. "I make them into pies."

She looked down at her knees, as if internally debating something. "I'll make you a deal, Gamzee. You can have a pie of sopor slime from my recuperacoon if you eat some regular food after, okay?"

"Okay," he said, visibly brightening.

"Promise me, Gamzee. I'm going to call upon your honor as a high-blood here," she added.

He paused and then nodded, slowly. "I promise."

"Good." She hopped off the edge of his bed. "Let's go."

"Thank you... Feferi."

* * *

He could tell that she didn't approve, but she didn't say anything as she watched him dig a pie tin full of sopor slime out of her recuperacoon and eat it as fast as he could. As soon as he finished, he belched happily. His stomach hurt a lot less and the throbbing in his think-pan had gone away.

"You promised," Feferi reminded him, and he suddenly remembered that he _had_ promised her to eat some regular food, and while he'd been reluctant to keep that promise earlier, finishing off a sopor pie had made him much more docile. He allowed himself to be led to the sustenance block and to the refrigerator, where she dug out leftovers from dinner. Gamzee sat down on the floor and ate until Feferi came and sat down next to him. "Feel better?"

He nodded, smiling. The grubsteak wasn't all that good to him, but he ate it anyway. It would make Feferi happy and he was too stoned to care about the taste anyway.

He wondered if normal moirallegiances were like this and if that was what this was—a moirallegiance. It certainly felt like one—he couldn't recall anyone who had gotten him to eat normal food with as little complaint—but he'd never had the pale quadrant filled before, so he couldn't be sure.

Once he'd cleared his plate, he belched again and made a face. Feferi giggled, set his plate in the cleansing basin, and sat back down next to him on the floor.

"So why'd you motherfucking do this for me?" he asked.

"Well, you're going to be my Grand Highblood one day. We should be friends, at least. Besides, someone needs to take care of you, and I don't think your sister _or_ your lusus has done a very good job of that. _My_ sister isn't the greatest, either, but at least she taught me a few things."

It certainly sounded like pale flirting to him, and it made him happy. "My lusus is always away," he said. "He spends a lot of motherfucking time out at sea."

"Why?"

Gamzee shrugged. "I don't think he motherfucking likes Kurlas all that much."

"Who's Kurl—wait, your sister?"

"Yeah."

"But he likes you?"

"As far as I can motherfucking tell."

"_Whale_, that makes sense. You seem nice enough to me."

_I'm not always this motherfucking nice._ "Thanks. So do you."

She smiled and he could tell immediately he'd said the right thing. "So how old are you?"

"Seven and a half. You?"

"Nine and a half."

"I didn't motherfucking know you were that old. I thought you were younger."

"I think Meenah likes to pretend I'm younger."

"Meenah?"

She looked sheepish. "Sorry. The Condesce, I mean. She's been basically the only person I've ever _glubbed_ to, apart from servants and people I've seen when she sends me out." She scratched the back of her neck. "This is the longest I've ever _glubbed_ with someone who _wasn't_ my sister."

"Same. Kurlas likes to motherfucking hide me. She's embarrassed of me." True, he did get to go out and mingle with the low-bloods sometimes, which was why he was Feferi's escort on this whole ill-advised excursion, but he always had an entourage of Defenders to keep the low-bloods at arm's length. Mostly, he suspected, for their protection as opposed to his own.

"Why?"

"She's embarrassed by me."

"That's her mistake then. I think you're _fin_tastic and you're going to make a _betta_ Grand Highblood than her."

"Not me."

She smiled and ruffled his hair. "Not right now, you're not. But one day, I think you'll be great. You still have a lot to learn, but I think you'll do just fine when the time comes."

He drew his knees up to his chest and looked at her. He'd been given this spiel before by other people before, but never with this amount of kindness behind it. For whatever reason, Feferi cared about him—and for the first time, he could see the truth behind what she was saying. Maybe he _could_ be a better Grand Highblood than Kurlas. Maybe this would be a good thing, this trip to see Alternia. "You know, I'm motherfucking happy Kurlas suggested this."

Feferi blinked. "She didn't. It was my idea. The Condesce mentioned it to your sister on her last visit and your sister liked the idea so much that she convinced _my_ sister to let me. You didn't know that?"

Gamzee shook his head. "I didn't think you wanted to motherfucking be here any more than I did."

"Hmm." Feferi ran her nails through her hair again. "Well, after nine and a half sweeps stuck under my sister's watchful gaze, I wanted a bit of space. I'm glad your sister changed her mind."

"Then I motherfucking am, too."

She smiled at took his hand. "Come on. We need to get some sleep if we're going to be up early to_marlin_."

Again, Gamzee allowed himself to be led away, hoping that he'd found himself a first, real moirail.

* * *

**UGH I accidentally shipped them as moirails and I regret nothing now.**

**"CtT" Act 53 will be up soon, I've just had a hectic few days and I'm getting a new tattoo tomorrow so I'll start tonight and probably finish it tomorrow night.**


	5. DARKLEER

**Yay, another chapter! Again, I'm really happy with how this one turned out. Also I kind of fell in love with Horuss while writing this since he's such a cutie pie.**

**Many thanks to obsessed01616, SmileyFacesSmile, FanficFinatic2, and pendaly for your reviews to the last chapter!**

* * *

_**E%ecutor Darkleer**_

Didn't he own even _one_ pair of goggles that weren't cracked?

"Horuss," he rasped, but he might as well not have bothered. His brother—The Engineer, he was called, a titled Horuss had acquired from him—was entirely focused on his current project. It looked to be a completely autonomous robot, a feat that he himself had not managed to even come close to during his five sweeps as The Engineer, but somehow, after barely two sweeps, his younger brother had basically surpassed him. Not that Equius hadn't been an incredibly gifted Engineer in his own right, but Horuss was better, with a knack for figuring out what components worked best and where.

Realizing he wasn't about to get Horuss's attention from the other side of the block, Equius pushed back from his workbench, where he'd been crafting and sharpening his arrows, and strode across the block in five long strides that nearly shook the hive to its foundation. He gave Horuss a firm tap on the shoulder, a touch that would have horribly bruised a lesser troll, but not a Zahhak. Their blood was stronger—their _everything_ was stronger. It was why both Equius and Horuss consistently broke the lenses on their goggles and sunglasses and why Equius continually broke his teeth. Neither of them had quite gotten the hang of managing their own strength, so they were unable to accomplish more delicate tasks. Equius's teeth usually grew back, though, so he wasn't too concerned about that particular issue. "Horuss," he said again.

This time, he attracted his brother's attention. "Yes, brother?" Horuss asked, spinning his seat around and flipping up his face shield.

Ah, yes, his brother. He was always so formal, more concerned with genteel behavior befitting his blue blood, more so than even Equius. It made him incredibly respectful to highbloods and lowbloods alike, although he still regarded the lower castes with a heavy degree of disdain. Toward the highbloods, he had nothing but the utmost respect. Equius didn't doubt that Horuss might one day work for The Grand Highblood or maybe even Her Imperious Condescension, perhaps as an E%ecutor like himself, but no matter what capacity he served in, he would make a fine one.

"The Princess and The S—I mean, The Young Highblood—will be here shortly." He'd almost referred to The Young Highblood by his unofficial, disrespectful nickname. He'd heard it so much from the lowbloods that he'd unconsciously picked up the habit. It was all well and good for the lowbloods, but not for a blue-blood like him. Besides, he didn't want to set a poor example for Horuss. "We must be ready to receive them. Do you have any unbroken sunglasses or goggles?"

"Yes, brother." Horuss removed his face shield, set it on the bench behind him, deftly slipped the strap of his goggles over his head without snagging it on his horns (an impressive feat on its own), and handed them over to Equius. Now that his dark-lensed goggles were off, Equius could see his brother's eyes. They were hard and seemingly cold, but he knew the apparent coldness was a mask for his polite courtesy. He was proper, logical, and respectful almost to a fault.

"Is this your only unbroken pair?" Equius asked, holding the goggles as loosely as he could without dropping them.

"Yes." Horuss wiped the sheen of sweat from his face with the towel that hung from around his neck. "However, I have a few more where the cracks aren't very noticeable."

Equius opened his mouth to protest—he couldn't take his brother's best pair of goggles, not when he could so easily break them—but Horuss cut him off. "You are an E%ecutor, in direct service of The Grand Highblood herself. It is imperative that you look your best for The Young Highblood, as well as The Princess. It would behoove us to ensure that any reports they pass on to their respective sisters do not cast you or anyone in the E%ecutor Corps in a negative light."

Equius could see his brother's logic in this. "I suppose you're right." He wasn't just _in_ the E%ecutor Corps, either—he was the commander, the youngest in Alternian history at only fifteen and a half sweeps old. It was almost unheard-of for E%ecutor commanders to gain their post before twenty, but Equius had proven himself a worthy, obedient E%ecutor, and The Grand Highblood, in her terminal capriciousness, had seen fit to elevate him to the commanding role less than a sweep ago, after the previous commander was culled for abusing her authority. E%ecutor Corps commanders typically had short lives and brutal deaths, but there was glory in the service.

"And while we're discussing the matter," Horuss added, pushing himself to his feet, "perhaps a visit to the ablution trap is in order."

Equius looked down, considering the perspiration on his own skin, and decided that yet again, Horuss had the right of it. It would not do to greet The Princess and The Young Highblood, the heirs of the two most powerful trolls on Alternia, covered in sweat and in greasy clothing. In fact, both of them could do with ablutions.

* * *

An hour later, cleaned and pressed (as well as either of them was going to get), the Zahhaks waited outside their hive for the arrival of the imperial party. Equius was six sweeps older than Horuss, but aside from the difference in their ages (and their height—Equius was taller than Horuss, but by less than half a head), they were nearly identical. Equius wore the traditional garb of an E%ecutor excepting the goggles over his eyes, befitting both his title and his blood, letting his long hair fall free to three-quarters of the way down his back. Horuss had tied his hair back, as he did whenever he worked to keep it from getting in his face, and since his official title was The Engineer, he dressed as he always did: a work smock made from the finest hoofbeast leather, long pants made from the same, heavy boots with toes reinforced with metal, and a long-sleeved leather shirt with matching gloves. His goggles (cracked, but he'd been right in saying that it wasn't all that noticeable) were firmly over his eyes.

Their lusus Aurthour had come to collect from from the respiteblock upon receiving a communication that the ship would arrive shortly, but they'd waited until they could hear the engines of the _Battleship Condescension_ approaching before actually exiting to wait. By the time the ship touched down, Equius had begun to wish that he'd tied his hair back as well—the gusts from the engines had turned it into a hopeless mess, and it was all he could do to keep his back straight and retain every shred of dignity he could muster.

The Princess descended from the _Battleship Condescension_ with The Young Highblood in tow, and as one, the Zahhaks sank to one knee and bowed their heads. "Princess," Equius boomed to be heard over the roar of the engines that were still in the process of winding down, "it is a great honor to welcome you here on behalf of the E%ecutor Corps." He looked up to address The Young Highblood. "And you, Young Highblood. It is a most joyous occasion to see you again."

The indigo blood looked extremely confused. "We met before, motherfucker?"

Equius felt his eyes widen in horror (neither The Princess nor The Young Highblood could tell with his goggles, although his eyebrows were surely in danger of disappearing into his hairline) and next to him, he just barely heard Horuss mutter, "Disgusting behavior." He couldn't believe the way The Young Highblood was already conducting himself, and it had only been moments since he'd arrived. Equius had somehow expected more from him—he did know of The Young Highblood's reputation and his proclivity toward indecorous behavior, but he had still anticipated The Young Highblood to act with more poise than _this_. And as for Horuss's assessment, Equius couldn't deny that it was spot-on, but he had to resist the urge to smack the back of his brother's head. It was doubtful either of the higher-bloods noticed his comment, but that wasn't the point. Horuss needed to keep his mouth shut under these circumstances.

"Yes, Young Highblood. It was about seven sweeps ago—you were still a wiggler, I'm afraid." Horuss hadn't even been hatched then—in fact, Equius didn't think he'd ever mentioned meeting The Young Highblood to him. He'd obviously met The Grand Highblood several times, but The Young Highblood, since their initial meeting seven sweeps ago, had been sequestered away every other time. Now, Equius truly understood why—the heir was an embarrassment. He couldn't believe that this troll was the heir to The Grand Highblood's seat. Alternia was doomed. He could only hope that The Princess displayed greater charm.

"Oh. Cool shit then, motherfucker. Good to see you again, too!"

This could not be happening. _Show a little more decorum!_ he wanted to scream at The Young Highblood, but he kept his mouth obediently shut. No matter how he tainted his blood with sopor pies (a habit nearly everyone on Alternia knew about, leading to his unofficial title of The Soporite) and polluted it with the toxic fizzy drinks he loved so much, he _was_ The Young Highblood, and Equius was honor-bound to follow him. That was the whole point of the E%ecutor Corps—to serve the higher castes, no matter how unworthy they were of their noble blood.

As the engines died down and Equius's hair stopped whipping against his back, The Princess looked from The Young Highblood back to him. "Rise, E%ecutor Darkleer, and you, too, Engineer," she said graciously, smiling, offering Equius her hand to help him to his feet.

He began to sweat. There was no way he could get out of taking her hand without seeming impolite, but if he did, he would surely bruise her. He had no more time to think on it further, either, since Horuss was already straightening up. Flushing blue with embarrassment, he took her hand as gingerly as possible and climbed to his feet under his own strength. He finally stood and released her hand, and when he let it go, it was faintly fuchsia. _Curses._ He'd actually managed to bruise her. "My apologies," he murmured quickly. "I'm afraid I'm stronger than I look."

"Oh." The Princess regarded her hand with a curious look. "It's quite alright, Darkleer. I would imagine the commander of the E%ecutor Corps would have a firm handle on the task."

Equius was fairly certain she'd made a joke. The corners of his mouth twitched up in a smile before The Princess herself started smiling, and then both he and Horuss were laughing. Only The Young Highblood seemed oblivious to the exchange, although he was still smiling to himself as he stared off into the sky. _He is as high as a wind-diamond_, Equius realized.

"I've actually meant to come see you for quite some time, but Her Imperious Condescension had other duties for me to attend to," The Princess went on. "I understand you've held your post for about two sweeps now, correct?"

"Yes, Princess."

"And who was the E%ecutor Corps commander before you?"

"E%ecutor Goldrage." She'd chosen her name because of her purple blood (having someone of so high a caste as to be a seadweller was extremely rare, and there hadn't been one in hundreds of sweeps, so despite the fact that it made her subservient to a caste lower than her own, she still agreed to act as commander) and, thus, her habit of adorning her uniform with gold trim as well as her tendency to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. As far as commanders went, hers had been a rather long command—eleven sweeps, in fact—but toward the end, she had grown increasingly more abusive to the newer E%ecutors, including Equius himself. He knew he'd been chosen over the heads of candidates who were seen as more qualified, so he was determined to prove that he had been the right choice.

"I'm afraid I never met Goldrage, either."

"That does not surprise me, Princess. Her appointment came before you were hatched."

The Princess nodded like this settled the matter. "_Whale_, Darkleer, my sister and The Grand Highblood tell me that the E%ecutor Corps have only flourished under your leadership. Would it be possible for me to meet some of them?"

Equius had not only expected this eventuality, but hoped for it. He had chosen ten of his best E%ecutors—his second-in-command, Luminous, several lieutenants, and a handful of recruits—for just this purpose. They were all standing by at the barracks waiting for them. "Absolutely, Princess. It would be my pleasure."

"Excellent. Lead the way, Darkleer."

"It is a short walk to the compound," he said, offering her his arm to lead their small party.

"That's just fine. I wanted to talk to you and your brother a little more."

Equius could almost feel the surprise radiating off of Horuss at that, but before either of them could say a word in response, The Princess was continuing. "Tell me, Engineer, do you plan on following your brother into the E%ecutor Corps?"

Horuss cleared his throat. "To be quite honest, Princess, I do look forward to serving under Her Imperious Condescension or The Grand Highblood one day, but I feel my skills would be put to better use in a different capacity other than E%ecutor."

_Deftly done._ Horuss had a way with words that Equius did not quite possess. He would no doubt amount to something greater than Equius himself, which was all he could hope for in regards to his younger brother's future.

"Any thoughts in particular?" The Princess inquired.

"My brother is an exceptionally gifted mechanic and steamwright. He has already begun building a completely autonomous robot," Equius said. "Perhaps he could be of use in that regard."

"Really?" The Princess sounded intrigued, which was only good news. "And how old are you now, Engineer?"

"Nine and a half, Princess," Horuss said.

The Princess laughed lightly. "The same age as me, and yet far more accomplished. Very impressive, Engineer."

"Surely The Princess has had other concerns above and beyond the design of mere playthings," Horuss said, managing to soothe The Princess's not-at-all bruised ego and downplay his own achievements. Modesty was another of his finer qualities.

"I suppose you're right," The Princess said, still smiling. "Perhaps when we're done here, you _whale_ show me what you're working on?"

"It would be the greatest of honors," Horuss said, bowing low as he walked even though The Princess probably couldn't see him.

Equius couldn't help smiling to himself. Despite the rocky beginning, this was looking to be an excellent meeting already.

* * *

**IT'S SAD BECAUSE THEY'RE HAPPY NOW BUT THEY WON'T BE.**


	6. THE SCORPION

**HOW DID THIS HAPPEN THESE CHAPTERS KEEP GETTING LONGER AND LONGER oh yeah Orphaner Dualscar reappears in this chapter, that's how (I have a hard-on for the Ancestors okay).**

**Many thanks to FanficFinatic2 for your review to the last act!**

* * *

_**The Scorpion**_

The gentle rocking of the waves when the_ Blackweb_ was moored to a pier was always soothing enough to lull Vriska into a deep sleep, even without the typical hive comforts like a recuperacoon. Since the _Blackweb_ was a ship, she had to sleep in a hammock strung up between two posts in a block shared with her sister, but somehow, she was able to sleep soundly despite it.

When the _Blackweb_ was out at sea, however, the waves were stronger and only had a tendency to make her cling to the railings and try not to lose her dinner.

This was exactly what she was doing right now, wondering why they weren't in port right now. Vriska had been woken up suddenly in the middle of the day by Aranea and told to pack her bag, and by this point, Vriska knew better than to question Aranea when she gave an order with that furious look in her eyes. They gathered the few possessions they kept at their small land-based hive, a hidden place where they stayed when they'd be in port for awhile, and stole away to the _Blackweb_ while the rest of the planet slept. As far as Vriska knew, Aranea hadn't discovered the location of the Fluorite Octet yet, which was the only reason she figured Aranea would wake her up so suddenly—she'd told Vriska she would need Orphaner Dualscar's help with that, and she hadn't seen the pretentious sea-dwelling douche-fin anywhere near their ship since they put to sea nearly a week ago. For reasons completely unfathomable to her, Aranea had a pretty strong kismesissitude going with him, but Vriska's hatred of him was of the completely unerotic variety (which, she supposed, worked out just fine, since he was _Aranea's_ kismesis after all); she just found him to be irritating.

One particularly strong wave beat against the side of the ship, and Vriska groaned, trying to hold down her food. This happened every time they went to sea, too—it took her a week or two to get her sea legs back, and in the meantime, she spent her time in a state of abject misery. She would make a pretty pathetic pirate if she didn't figure this out soon. No one was going to respect a seasick pirate queen.

She didn't hear Aranea's high-heeled boots clacking on the deck behind her, but she did hear her say in a deliberately mocking tone, "Aw, sick again?"

Vriska lifted her head from over the side in a feeble attempt to glare at her, but with another precarious rock of the ship, she white-knuckled the railing and finally let loose the proverbial beast.

Aranea sighed. "Fuck, Vriska, I thought you'd be over this by now. It only took me a sweep to get used to a life at sea," she reminded Vriska in that "better than you" way she had.

Vriska was seven and a half, but Aranea was fifteen and a half and had been stowing away on ships since she was four. It was no wonder she'd gotten used to sea life so fast, or why she was such a good pirate queen—although she never referred to herself as a queen; she was Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, a self-styled pirate captain who was quickly gaining a reputation as a force to be reckoned with.

But Vriska hadn't put to sea until just about a sweep ago. Whenever Aranea had set sail before then, Vriska had been left utterly alone—the lusus that they were supposed to have had had died when Aranea was four, leading her to pursue a free life on her own. Four sweeps later, during one of her land-based travels, she'd happened to find another little cerulean-blooded grub and, instead of culling her like Vriska would have done, decided to raise her by herself. And seven and a half sweeps later, here Vriska was, clutching the railing of the _Blackweb_ and hating life.

"What are we even _doing_ out here, anyway?" Vriska asked once she finished heaving, choosing to ignore her sister's tone. She shakily half-turned to look at her.

Aranea's response came a beat later than she expected. "Dualscar is coming."

Vriska could just tell she was lying, but as she was still seasick, she opted not to press it further. She kept her mouth firmly shut, looked back out to the horizon, and hoped that the next time she threw up, she wouldn't get vomit on her boots.

After a few moments, Aranea's footsteps retreated and Vriska exhaled sharply through her nose. She absolutely hated sea life right now, and she could not wait to get back to port.

* * *

Vriska waited on the weather decks until she was sure her nausea had subsided for the time being. She didn't think she could keep anything else down, and besides, the sun looked to be about to rise, so she heaved a sigh and headed toward what served as a respiteblock for her and Aranea. On the way there, she happened to pass by her sister's meetingblock, and since she heard voices, she stopped, backed up, and peered through a crack in the wood.

That was her sister at the head of the nutrition platform, of course—Vriska recognized her sister by her outfit alone. The long black coat with silver buttons, cerulean-blue trim, and the Serket sign on the left breast was unmistakeable. But next to her... Vriska had to squint before she recognized him. It had been half a sweep since she saw him last, but now that she was looking, she knew exactly who he was. With that ridiculous black-and-purple getup with obnoxious gold jewelry on his fingers, at his wrists, and around his neck (as well as that stupid blue harpoon gun in the corner), this could be none other than Orphaner Dualscar himself. Of course, the twin scars just below his hairline tipped her off a little, too.

In addition to propping his gun up in the corner, he'd hung up his dripping-wet purple cape. Dualscar himself was still soaked from the looks of it, meaning he'd just arrived no more than a half an hour ago. Every so often, he would run his fingers through his hair to smooth it back from his face, the seawater sticking the bulk of it to his head, but stray strands kept falling into his eyes. Vriska gritted her teeth.

She absolutely hated this guy with his dashing seadweller good looks and his "be my kismesis" charm. She had no idea how Aranea could stand the prospect of filling buckets with this asshole, but there must have been some challenge she saw that Vriska didn't, somewhere beneath the surface. Vriska was pretty sure he had all the depth of a puddle, but there might have been something she couldn't see, even with her vision eightfold.

But her sister and Dualscar were talking quietly, their heads together, her hand over his, poring over a map—of what, Vriska couldn't see. She looked closer and realized that she wasn't holding his hand, she was digging her nails into his skin, sending small rivulets of purple welling up and streaming to the surface of the nutrition platform, and he was smirking like it was all just a big joke while at the same time, pointing out something on the map. After a few moments, Aranea finally moved her hand, her nails and fingertips smeared with Dualscar's blood, and the whole situation left Vriska feeling slightly unsettled. There was something here she was missing—she knew it—but she couldn't tell what.

She'd just backed away from the door to continue on to her rack when she heard two words float out. "..._The Condesce..._" Dualscar said, and Vriska hurried back.

"It was her ship, though," Aranea was saying, not looking at the map anymore.

"I asked around. She wasn't on it." He sounded bitter.

"No one takes the _Battleship Condescension_ but The Condesce," Aranea informed him in her know-it-all demeanor. Vriska thought it was a relief that she didn't drop that act for _anyone_, even her kismesis.

"Ah, but someone _does_," Dualscar said, and his tone was so obnoxious that Vriska nearly gagged for reasons completely separate from the rocking of the _Blackweb_.

"Not... not The Princess."

"Yes, The Princess." Dualscar was so smug that Vriska had to actively fight not to groan. She didn't want to clue her sister in that she was eavesdropping.

"But The Condesce has kept her locked up in that palace for sweeps," Aranea argued.

"Not anymore. Her Imperious Condescension decided that since The Princess is nine an' a half now, she should see Alternia in its entirety. The Princess is on a grand tour a' the planet with The Young Highblood," he added, his voice practically dripping with disdain.

"The _Soporite_? That clown? What kind of benefit does The Condesce think will come of having _him_ escort The Princess?"

"I can't imagine, but someone, whether it be The Condesce or The Grand Highblood, did not think this through."

Aranea scoffed. "Since when could _anyone_ expect the Grand Highblood to act logically? She's been mad ever since she ascended to the throne."

Dualscar laughed. "An' The Young Highblood won't be any better when he ascends, either. The Soporite's an addict. If anything, he'll be worse than her."

"Do you get the feeling The Princess had no idea what she was getting into?" Aranea asked, dragging her nails down the back of Dualscar's hand.

Dualscar's grin widened, and he covered her hand with his other one. "Probably not. Almost makes you feel bad for her, doesn't it?"

Aranea scoffed again and shook her head. "Not likely. If The Young Highblood is that similar to his sister, I can't even imagine how much worse life under The Princess will get once _she_ ascends."

"Her first stop after pickin' up The Young Highblood was to inspect some of the E%ecutor Corps."

"She saw Darkleer?"

"That she did. An' The Engineer. I think Darkleer's _anglin_' to get his brother in with The Grand Highblood or The Condesce."

Aranea groaned as he spoke. "I really ought to slap you for that pun."

Vriska could count every one of Dualscar's teeth when he grinned that wide. "Maybe you should."

_Fuck, enough of the hate-flirting. Move on to the juicy stuff!_ She wanted more information on this Darkleer guy. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"Later," Aranea practically purred, leaning in closer to Dualscar and dropping her voice so Vriska had to strain to hear her. "Where's The Princess supposed to go next?"

"As far as I can tell, she's headin' out to see the legislacerators next."

"Which means Redglare."

"Exactly."

"When do you think it'll be safe for us to return to port? I have to think about my sister, after all."

Dualscar seemed annoyed with that comment, and Vriska felt her hackles raise—apparently he didn't like _her_ very much, either—until he said, "Don't you think I'm worried about my _own_ brother? He's out there by himself right now."

"But he's—"

"The same age as The Scorpion," Dualscar said, referring to Vriska by her title. He didn't know her real name, just as she didn't know his. Names were a personal thing. You generally only revealed your name to someone you were filling a quadrant with—that's why titles were so important. She hadn't done much to earn her title except become rather well-known in the village she and Aranea hid out in for the redrom games she liked to play with the lowbloods. Let Aranea have her blackrom flirtations all she wanted—Vriska's forte was redrom, and she was really good at stinging the lowbloods right where it hurt.

_Huh. Dualscar's got a brother my age._ His brother wouldn't be a lowblood, but it _would_ pose an interesting challenge. Plus there would be a pleasing symmetry in pursuing a quadrant (probably the flushed one, but then again, maybe she could find in him a decent kismesis) with the brother of her sister's kismesis.

"An' unlike The Scorpion, The Eleventh hasn't had to spend a whole lot a' time by himself. Your sister has you, after all, but right now, my brother is alone," Dualscar went on.

"They're not going to be wigglers forever."

"I know that. That's what scares me."

They were both quiet for a few moments, and Vriska contemplated slinking away from the door again—she wasn't worried about any of the other crew members catching her because even if they did, they were all mostly lowbloods and she could use her mind-control powers to make them forget what they saw. Aranea would never know unless she or Dualscar discovered her. But she was getting tired and the sun was rising.

"I heard rumors," Dualscar said quietly. "I don't know how well-founded they are, but they all seem to agree that The Princess won't be returning to the palace for awhile. They say that this tour is supposed to take a sweep at least."

"A _sweep_? How the fuck long—"

"I don't know." He finally pulled his hands away from her and stood up. Running his fingers through his hair again (although it seemed to be more out of frustration than because it was still drying), he started pacing the deck, continuing, "I _also_ don't know what The Condesce has told The Princess about you, so until she returns to the palace, it's safer for both of you out here. You're mobile this way. An'..." He sighed. "If she gets too close, you an' your sister can hide with us."

"Cronus, that's _not_ a solution." Vriska felt her eyes widen—she knew Dualscar's name now. _Cronus._ "This is a fucking _sweep_ that we're wasting out here while we should be finding the Fluorite Octet! You promised me you would help me with that!"

"Damn it, I'm _working_ on it! The thing's been lost for _how_ many sweeps now? It's not just gonna pop out of the sea and land on your fucking deck, you know!"

Aranea groaned. "Alright, fine." She drummed her fingers on the nutrition platform and Dualscar finally sat back down, albeit in a different chair, examining the nail marks and drying blood on the back of his hand. "I thought you and The Eleventh lived underwater," she said abruptly. "How could we possibly join you?"

Dualscar chuckled. "How do you think I'm so good at hidin'? Everyone expects the dreadful Orphaner Dualscar to have a' underwater hive, so, naturally, The Eleventh an' I live on land. We're still pretty close to the sea, though. We could moor the _Blackweb_ to our dock an' figure out some way to cloak it so even if The Princess passed right overhead, she wouldn't know it was your ship, an' we got plenty a' blocks that don't have a use. Your sister would have a whole wing to herself, an' you..." His voice trailed off, and Vriska couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw both Dualscar and Aranea _blushing_.

_Sickening._

"You're an ass," Aranea said with a fond grin. "You just want to keep me close to you."

"Can you blame me? I'm sure you got plenty a' caliginous suitors tryin' to climb your riggin'."

"What, like you don't?"

"One kismesis is plenty. Especially one as high-maintenance as you."

Aranea laughed. "So, what, trying to focus on other quadrants?"

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"So you finally have your eye on a matesprit. It's about damn time. Who?"

"You're gonna laugh."

"I was going to laugh no matter what."

"You're not bein' very encouragin'."

Aranea chuckled softly, pushed her chair back, and climbed into Dualscar's lap. From this angle, Vriska couldn't see exactly what she was doing but she suspected her sister was biting on his fin. He closed his eyes and let out a loud groan, digging his nails into her shoulders but not pushing her away.

"How about now?" Aranea murmured.

"You're gonna hate me."

"I already do."

"Not the right kinda hate. You're gonna wanna kill me."

"I'll try to suppress the instinct." She pulled back to look him in the eyes. "Tell me."

He sighed. "It's stupid, Aranea. I don't think anythin' gonna come of it. She probably doesn't know I exist, an' it would be complicated anyway. It's just a crush."

"Tell me anyway."

He waited another three seconds before he murmured, "The Condesce."

_This_ was interesting news. Vriska had been just about to slink away, but her interest had been snatched back. She didn't register any shift in her sister's expression, but a moment later, Aranea slapped Dualscar as hard as she could. His head snapped to the side and Vriska could, for a few moments, see his whole face; there was already a faintly purple mark on his cheek. Then he looked back at Aranea. "I told you."

"That you did, and thanks for the warning. Now then, how the _fuck_ do you expect _that_ relationship to work when she's _hunting me down_?!"

"I _said_ it was gonna be complicated."

"Yeah, really fucking complicated. Your matesprit trying to kill your kismesis—that's not how it fucking works, Orphaner!"

"Yeah, I _know_. Just fuckin' listen, okay. I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't have selfish reasons for it—I _am_ flushed for her, after all—but this is for your benefit, too."

"_How?_"

"If—_if—_she ever reciprocated my flushed feelins', I'd tell her you're my kismesis. Quadrant rules basically dictate that you can't hurt anyone fillin' a quadrant with someone _you're_ fillin' a quadrant with, remember? So—"

"So she wouldn't be able to hurt me," Aranea said quietly.

"Exactly."

"Nice try, Cronus, but since when has The Condesce ever played fair? She's not going to let herself be constrained by romance rules, not with Marquise Spinneret Mindfang on the loose."

Dualscar half-smiled and wrapped his arms around Aranea, who was still sitting in his lap. "My Marquise, the Scourge a' the Seas."

"And like you said, it's The Condesce. The odds..."

"Exactly. One in billions. An' in the meantime, I got my kismesis to keep me warm."

Aranea leaned down to bite at his lips, and Vriska was pretty sure that she was not about to get any more pertinent information from either of them and also that they were not going to stop this time. She _really_ didn't want to witness her sister filling buckets with anyone, so she slunk away to her hammock, wondering how she was going to survive a full sweep at sea.

* * *

**I just really fucking love portraying blackrom. I didn't get as in-depth as I wanted (in my headcanon, they usually start off with a swordfight and well-placed insults) but I figured a little scratching and biting and slapping would get the point across for the moment. Also holy Jesus I fell in love with the Mindfang/Dualscar ship while I wrote this.**


	7. NEOPHYTE REDGLARE

**Sad to say, I actually had this all written out before I finished the update for "Coming to Terms." Oh, well. Not so happy with this one, but I haven't ever really gotten a chance to explore Latula's character before, so it was rather difficult for me to put myself in her headspace. Still, I imagine that she adores Terezi, so... yeah.**

**Many thanks to Toaneo07 Ver2.0, SmileyFacesSmile, TH4TON3GUY (I hope you had a happy birthday, and sorry about the delay!), and FanficFinatic2 for your reviews to the last act. I just know that as the story picks up speed, I will get more readers, but I love you guys right now!  
**

* * *

_**Neophyte Redglare**_

Latula Pyrope straightened her glasses, a deep pride welling in her chest as she carefully looked over her reflection. The square-framed red-tinted glasses were an affectation adopted to appease (well, more to comfort) her sister Terezi, who wore her pointed red glasses to disguise her blindness, but her attire—that of a Judicate legislacerator—was new, a mark of her imminent graduation from the ranks of the Neophytes. She'd been working at this for four sweeps now, ever since she was nine and a half—putting her at among the youngest of her peers—and today, in mere hours, all her hard work would pay off.

But this promotion would be made all the more special because today, The Princess would attend the ceremony as well. The Young Highblood was also rumored to be attending as The Princess's escort, but Latula regarded that news with nothing but dread. She knew of The Soporite's reputation—everyone did. Seeing him, even in the company of The Princess, would be an ordeal. But that was the only aspect of today she had any reservations about.

Terezi, on the other hand... She either hadn't heard (laughable—there was very little she didn't hear or smell or taste or feel due to their lusus's instruction) about The Soporite's presence or simply didn't care that he would be there. She was just excited to be around all the graduating legislacerators and ask them questions, something Latula wished she wouldn't do, but short of confining Terezi to their hive with Pyralspite, there was nothing she could do to prevent it (and she certainly wasn't going to force Terezi to miss this event). And maybe it was for the best—after all, it was Terezi's goal to follow in her footsteps as a legislacerator. Normally, her blindness would disqualify her from nearly everything (normally, it would be reason enough for Terezi to be culled), but she navigated to well due to Pyralspite's teaching that she didn't appear to outsiders to be blind. The only way the know she was blind was to actually see her eyes, something Terezi never allowed, at least in public. Her red glasses stayed firmly on her face all the time. She knew well enough that her disability would get her culled, but she refused to let to hold her back.

In many ways, Terezi was the person Latula admired the most. She knew she was in danger, but it didn't stop her from having goals, and the fact that she wanted to be what Latula was now was just an added bonus.

"We have to leave soon," she called over her shoulder to Terezi, who was lying on her stomach poking at Pyralspite with her white cane. She only used it in the hive, the only concession she would make to her blindness. "I'd like to be there before The Princess and The Soporite. Are you almost ready?"

"I'm ready now!" Terezi announced, jumping to her feet and instinctively brushing off her black pants. She had either felt or smelled the dust on her clothing.

Latula blinked, stunned. "But that's what you always wear! The Princess and The Young Highblood are going to be there!"

Terezi cocked her head to the side for a moment. "It's comfortable."

"You have to wear something else." It was too simple—black pants and a black shirt with their sign in the same color as their teal blood—and everyone else there would be dressed much more nicely. The graduates would all be wearing the attire of the Judicate legislacerators, of course, but everyone observing would be dressed to impress, and the last thing Latula wanted was for Terezi to draw undue attention to herself. It was fine if she stood out because of any intelligence she displayed, but even the tiniest bit of negative attention could be damning. If The Princess was anything like Her Imperious Condescension, she wouldn't hesitate to cull a blind girl on the spot.

And The Soporite... Latula shuddered internally. She couldn't even imagine what kind of destruction might result from his presence. It would no doubt be a fiasco if anything set him off. It had only been three and a half sweeps or so since what the lowbloods referred to in hushed tones as The Incident, but despite the small number of actual witnesses, just about everyone knew the details. The Young Highblood was violently unstable, just like his sister. No one would be safe with him on the loose.

So it was imperative that everything appeared as high-end as possible. That included changing Terezi out of her everyday clothes and into something a little more appropriate for this event.

It took a bit of cajoling, but using the reasoning skills borne of her legislacerator training, Latula was able to talk Terezi into changing her clothes. The pants were traded for teal silk trousers, and though she wasn't a legislacerator yet, she wore a red silk shirt with their sign embroidered on it in teal as well. Red—bright, candy-red, anyway—was considered to be a mark of the legislacerators, but Latula figured it was okay because of the red glasses and the fact that Terezi was Latula's younger sister.

Terezi absolutely refused to budge on the comfortable shoes she wore, though, and Latula decided that would be an acceptable sacrifice.

* * *

By the time they arrived (they deigned to leave Pyralspite at home since she was fairly sizable for a lusus and would take up a lot of room), the amphitheater where the ceremony would take place was nearly filled—and there, in the middle of the cluster of people, surrounded by a ring of Defenders, was The Princess and The Young Highblood. The two highbloods were arm in arm, and Latula could understand why they would want to present a united front. Their sisters—The Condesce and The Grand Highblood—were the ruling team, but it was clear that The Princess wanted it known that she and The Soporite had reached some sort of agreement as well.

Or maybe it was more than that. The Princess was smiling like Her Imperious Condescension, but the feel was different. It seemed more genuine, like she was honestly pleased to be there. She chatted comfortably with people in the crowd from just beyond the circle of Defenders, as close to the edge as possible, and even The Young Highblood seemed... calm. He certainly didn't look sane—there was a wild look in his eye that Latula suspected came from some combination of the near-royalty of his blood and his sopor pies—but his posture bespoke a quiet in his bearing that was damn near pacified. Perhaps The Princess and The Young Highblood had struck up some sort of moirallegiance? It would be in keeping with their older sisters—the favored rumor was that The Condesce and The Grand Highblood were kismeses. That the younger two would have a romantic attachment as well seemed only natural.

"Come on," Terezi whined, tugging at Latula's wrist. She could hear the crowd, Latula was certain. "The highbloods are here." She grinned. "I can smell them," she added at a whisper to avoid drawing attention to herself. "There's a distinctly fruity smell to the air above the lowblood rust and midblood breeze."

Latula chuckled in spite of herself, rolling her eyes in a pleased sort of exasperation. Terezi had a habit of classifying blood smells—the dark red blood of the peasantry was her favorite. She claimed that it almost smelled royal, but there was a metallic tang to it that affirmed just how low it really was. "Yes, they're here. I was hoping to introduce us to them before the ceremony, but it looks like we'll have to wait," she added. She chewed on her lip and glanced around. The crowd was swelling by the minute—even people who couldn't possibly be here for the legislacerator graduation had arrived to see The Princess. Latula couldn't bring herself to think that anyone was here for The Soporite.

This might be the only chance most of these people had to see The Princess at all—the lowbloods' lives were much shorter than the upper castes, and some of them probably wouldn't live to see The Princess ascend to the throne. Some rulers saw five or six generations of lowbloods die before they, too, succumbed to death. So it wasn't surprising that the lowbloods would do anything for a glimpse of the next fuchsia blood in line.

Latula had another reason for wanting to meet The Princess, though, especially after she saw how approachable The Princess appeared. Even though it would be dangerous work, she wanted to be assigned to direct service for The Grand Highblood. It was true that The Grand Highblood was insane, and it was also true that the service would most likely end her life much sooner than it would end otherwise, but it was a prestigious assignment, one that would nearly guarantee Terezi would be accepted to become a legislacerator herself—provided she stayed alive long enough to apply. Talent was passed on through the blood, and if Latula was as gifted a legislacerator as she seemed, then Terezi would be just as good, or maybe even better.

Terezi scoffed. "Not likely. Let's go!"

"Wait—" Before Latula could protest further, Terezi was off, her shorter-than average stature helping her bob through the crowds. She must have been able to smell her way through, because she didn't stumble or smack into anyone once, and it was all Latula could do to keep up, hoping she wasn't disgracing herself by chasing after her sister.

By the time she caught up, Terezi was mere feet from the highbloods, her back to them with one row of people between them and The Princess. "We're here," she announced with a grin.

"Don't do that again!" Latula snapped in an undertone. "We could have gotten in trouble!"

"I didn't hear anyone complaining. We kept our heads down and kept moving—at least _I_ did—so I don't think anyone else noticed."

Latula wanted to throttle her, but she had to admit that Terezi was right. No one seemed upset, and they'd actually accomplished the goal of making it to the highbloods. Now the next step was hers.

She gently pushed past the one person who stood between her and The Princess and said, dropping to a deep bow, "Princess, it is an honor to meet you."

"The honor is all mine, I'm _shore_. No need to _bow_, either. Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

Latula straightened up, relieved to see The Princess still smiling like all she wanted in the world was to talk to her. "For the next few minutes, I'm Neophyte Redglare, but very shortly, I'll be Judicate Redglare, Princess."

"I _thought_ there was a reason you were dressed like that! It seems this event is for you, then. My congratulations."

"Thank you very much, Princess. And allow me to introduce you to my sister," she added, reaching behind her and pulling Terezi forward. "She doesn't have a title yet, but she's hoping to follow me as a legislacerator."

"What a _fin_ goal! How old are you, fish?" The Princess asked, addressing Terezi now.

"Six and a half. Princess," she added after Latula subtly elbowed her in the side.

"So young! But clearly, very driven. I saw how you wove through the mob just to get here," The Princess added with a laugh.

Latula felt herself blushing teal. "You saw that?"

"Oh, yes, very impressive. I think the legislacerators would be only gifted to have you among their ranks, young one. When the next batch of students is selected, I'll be sure you're on the list. Sister to Judicate Redglare," The Princess said. She seemed to be trying to remember that information, and Latula was stunned. That was so easy—getting Terezi into the legislacerators would be a snap with The Princess's endorsement. "What name would you pick?"

"I like Redglare," Terezi said. "I think I would keep it. There could be two Redglares at once, right?"

"There very well could. In fact, I would love to see that," The Princess said.

Latula was touched. She hadn't even thought to ask Terezi what she might call herself, and knowing that Terezi planned to style herself after Latula was more than she dreamed. She fought the urge to embrace Terezi right then and there, reminding herself that decorum must be preserved. Instead, she bowed again. "Many thanks to you, Princess. I can't express my gratitude."

"It will be thanks enough to see your sister at the top of her class," The Princess said. "But with you to guide her, I have no doubt that she will flourish."

Momentarily, a horn sounded, and the crowd began to find their way to their seats. Turning to Terezi, Latula said, "I'll help you find a place to sit and then stay there until after the ceremony. I'll come get you."

"Okay." She turned to The Princess, bowed, and said, "It was a great honor to meet you!"

"And an honor to meet you as well," The Princess replied, half-bowing.

Latula bowed again and quickly led Terezi away.

"The Young Highblood smelled... tainted," the younger Pyrope said once they were out of earshot.

"They don't call him The Soporite for nothing," Latula mumbled. "That was probably the sopor pies he eats."

"He didn't say anything, either."

"And be grateful for that. Nothing worthwhile ever comes out of that one's mouth." She gently pushed Terezi into a seat off to the side but near the front. "Stay right here. I'll be back."

"Good luck!" Terezi called after her.

It wasn't until after the ceremony, when she and Terezi were on their way back to their hive, that Latula realized she hadn't gotten to ask for the assignment to The Grand Highblood's service, and by then it was too late.

* * *

**It's not obvious yet, but there's a bit of a time lapse between each chapter and a fairly sizable one between the first and second chapters. This will become more obvious with the next chapter...**


	8. THE DISCIPLE

**So I lied... actually I didn't look at my outline before I made my claim about the huge time lapse being obvious. I forgot I had to write Leijons first. Big time lapse reveal in the next chapter I guess!**

**Many thanks to TH4TON3GUY, DJMeow, and SmileyFacesSmile for your review to the last chapter!**

* * *

_**The Disciple**_

It never occurred to Nepeta Leijon that her lusus Pounce de Leon and her brother Meulon would be concealing themselves separately, but after she tackle-pounced Miss de Leon and she pawed at the five-sweep-old's face, Nepeta looked around and realized Meulon was nowhere to be found.

"Hmm," she said, straightening up and scratching behind Pounce de Leon's ear. "Where is that pesky _purr_other of mine?" she asked as if Pounce could answer. She couldn't of course—everyone knew lusii couldn't talk—but Pounce followed behind her as she began creeping around the hive, hunting for Meulon.

Their hive was small but comfortably furnished, perfect for Nepeta and her older brother. They'd been living here for as long as she could remember, and she'd loved it. The inside was dark and cool, full of fluffy things to curl up and nap on and things to keep both them and Pounce happy. It was bliss for Nepeta, who didn't even realize for the first four sweeps that it was strange that she had a brother and not a sister (or that she was female and not male). Meulon had always cared for her, though. He was only four sweeps older than her, but he would be her lifelong companion—she could tell already.

But right now, she had to find him, and that involved her being as quiet and sneaky as possible. She wouldn't let him sneak up on her—she would hunt _him_ down.

Conceal-and-search was always highly competitive for them.

Meulon was very skilled at concealing himself—it was what made him such an excellent hunter. He was teaching her to do the same, but he had a natural ability that she lacked. Still, when it came down to it, she was better at mercilessly stalking prey, whereas he really only wanted to playfully chase after it. They had a lot to teach each other.

She drew level with the tree in the back lawnring and peered up into the branches, looking for any sign of Meulon. There was no movement, no rustling of leaves, and Nepeta decided he must not have been up there, so she scaled the tree herself to get a better vantage point. She'd climbed this tree hundreds of times in five sweeps, so she knew exactly what she'd see when she got to the top.

She would be able to leap to the roof if she was careful—which she always was—and if she could, then so could Meulon. It wouldn't surprise her to learn that he'd done just that and was watching her searching for him. "What do you think, Miss Pounce de Leon?" she asked in a whisper. Their lusus had followed her into the tree and was currently resting on a branch next to her.

Pounce gave a yawn and licked her whiskers.

"Well, _you_ aren't going to be much help," Nepeta hissed sourly, careful to keep her voice down. In case Meulon didn't know where she was, she didn't want to tip him off. A good hunter was always aware of every sound they made. Her eyes raked over the top of the hive and she thought she saw a flash of movement. All at once, she sprung, hurtling off the branch toward the roof.

"Nepeta?" came her brother's voice from the lawnring.

_Huh?_ Before Nepeta could process that she'd been wrong, he wasn't on the roof, he was _below_ her, she collided with the side of the hive, inches from the roof. The distraction couldn't have been timed any worse—she slammed her hand into the hive at an awkward angle, and she both heard and felt something crack. She yelped in pain and scrabbled with her good hand to regain her balance, but she started slipping—she couldn't grab onto anything, she couldn't move the fingers of her left hand, even the attempt was agony, she was slipping faster, she was going to plummet and die—

There was a white blur and suddenly Pounce was leaping over her onto the roof, biting down on her sleeve. Nepeta's lusus pulled with all her might, and suddenly her feet found purchase against the wall. Between the two of them, they managed to get her firmly onto the roof and finally, she caught her breath. "Thank you," she nearly cried, reaching out for Pounce with her good arm and cradling her lusus to her chest.

"Nepeta!" Meulon yelled from below. "Are you okay?"

She looked at her useless hand, held at a strange angle from her arm. Her wrist was broken—she was sure of it. It took all of her willpower not to howl in pain. What was she going to do?"

"No," she called down weakly. "My wrist is broken."

"Hang on!"

Nepeta peered down to see Meulon beginning to climb the tree as well, easily scaling the trunk by hopping from branch to branch. He finally appeared on the top branch and leaped from it to the roof, landing and rolling easily on the top of the hive. He slid smoothly to his feet and crossed the rooftop to crouch down in front of her and examine her wrist. "Yeah," he murmured. "It's broken."

"What do we do?"

He sat down cross-legged in front of her and tore a strip away from the bottom of his shirt. "This will hurt," he said. "A lot."

She was pretty sure she knew what he was going to do, so she nodded. "If it'll help, then do it."

Meulon chewed on his lip, tilting his head to get a better look. "Okay. Hold still. Close your eyes."

Nepeta obediently closed her eyes and kept them closed as Meulon took hold of her left arm. For a few moments, he gently held her arm and rubbed her hand soothingly. "It'll be okay," he said. "You're going to be just _purr_fect."

Nepeta let out a giggle a split second before his grip on her hand tightened suddenly and he yanked with all his strength. Her laugh turned into a scream and she covered her mouth with her other hand, tears of pain starting to stream down her face. After the first, initial stab of agony, the pain diminished slightly and Meulon began wrapping up her wrist with the strip of fabric.

"You can open your eyes now," he said.

She opened her eyes, gazing in equal parts quiet shock and detachment at the few drops of olive-green blood that had welled up through her skin. "When will it heal?"

Meulon looked up at her for a moment. "Soon. Just... no more jumping around like that. At least until you're all better," he added at the horrified look on her face.

"Okay," she said sadly.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't realize... that was my fault."

She ruffled his hair with her free hand. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean it."

"Feeling any better?"

She still couldn't wiggle her fingers, but at least it didn't hurt as badly as it did minutes ago. "A little."

"Good." He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Okay, let's go back inside."

They began to descend the ladder built into the rooftop of their hive, leading back down into the hive itself, when all of a sudden, off in the distance, there came the roar of engines, and Meulon, who was leading the way, froze in place. Nepeta, too, instinctively paused, the feeling of trepidation welling up inside her increasing as the engines grew louder. "Should we keep going?" she asked, staring off in the direction the engines were coming from.

Meulon seemed to shake himself awake mentally. "Uh, yeah. We should." He scrambled off the ladder, back onto the rooftop. "Pounce, you go down first."

Their lusus perked up at the sound of her name and bounded down the ladder with a grace few other lusii possessed. "You next," Meulon added once Pounce was safely in the hive. "I don't know who that is, but if you fall, Pounce is down there to catch you."

Nepeta glanced worriedly toward the sky, where she could see something approaching—the ship, she was sure. It was tiny, but growing larger by the second. "Okay." She scurried to the ladder and slowly started climbing down, holding her wrist out gingerly and trying to make it with one hand. She needed to hurry if Meulon was going to get down, too—she wasn't positive that whoever it was meant them harm, but it was better to be safely in the hive before it arrived.

The rumbling and roaring grew louder, and her heart began racing in panic. She stared up at Meulon, who was glancing back at the sky. He wouldn't tell her to hurry—he knew she couldn't—but she could see the look on his face, and it was frightened. He definitely needed to get down.

"Just start coming down!" she called up to him.

He looked to be about to argue, but another look over his shoulder changed his mind and he started to descend.

Nepeta clung to the sides of the ladder and continued her own descent, slowly and carefully climbing down until her feet touched the floor and she stepped back. "I'm down!"

Meulon looked down at her and scrambled faster, slamming the hatch at the top of the ladder closed. He was on the floor in about a third of the time that it took her, but he wasn't working with an injured wrist. Once he was on the ground, she sprinted down the stairs to the first level of their hive and went to the front entrance portal. She flung it open and stared as the ship finally passed overhead, rumbling through the hive and rattling everything inside. She gawked—she'd never seen the ship before, but she'd heard stories. She knew what ship she was looking at. Huge and bright red with a trident painted onto the side? It could only be the _Battleship Condescension_.

_That's right_, she realized. The Condesce's sister The Princess was traveling Alternia with The Young Highblood—remembering he was on that ship too sent a wave of revulsion through her. Even at five, she knew that The Young Highblood was no better than his sister.

She hated the thought that she was anything like him, but he was the only other person she knew of who had a sibling that wasn't the same gender as him. They were special cases, and Nepeta shivered. She didn't want to think about that right now, not when she had more important things to worry about.

"Is it gone?" Meulon asked worriedly, coming up behind her but not looking out the entrance portal.

"Yeah, it's leaving. It was the _Battleship Condescension_."

"The Condesce? What's she doing here?"

Nepeta shook her head. "Not The Condesce. Her sister, The Princess. And The Soporite," she added bitterly. "They're traveling Alternia—didn't you know?"

"No, I hadn't _purred_," Meulon joked. The corners of Nepeta's mouth twitched up in a smile.

"Yeah. She's touring the planet. Who knows why? But..." She looked up at the disappearing ship. "I have a bad feeling about it. Something bad is going to happen."

"With The Soporite involved, that doesn't surprise me," Meulon said soothingly.

Nepeta closed the entrance portal. "Let's not worry about that right _meow_. I'm hungry—aren't you?"

* * *

They ate dinner quietly, their game of conceal-and-search forgotten. The sky was lightening in the distance and Nepeta was too exhausted to say much of anything. She was more preoccupied with trying to figure out why she felt so worried, so afraid of what was to come. She knew of The Soporite's reputation, but that didn't mean The Princess was anything like him or her sister or The Grand Highblood. She might have been completely different.

But something terrible was hurtling toward them, and she wished she knew what it was so she could prepare. Even if she couldn't prevent it, just knowing what was coming would help her to know.

She stole a quick glance at her brother. _Maybe it's him_, she thought. Maybe the awful things in her future had to do with him. She hoped not—whether he caused it or was affected by it, she hoped it wasn't the case. If she lost her brother, she'd probably be destroyed.

But no. That had to be it. Her brother would be hurt and there would be nothing she could do to stop it and it would break her. She just barely resisted the impulse to fling herself at him and hug him. The throbbing in her wrist was enough to make her think twice.

_I'm just being paranoid. It's nothing. We'll be fine._ What could happen to them? They were lowbloods—the highest caste of the "low", but lowbloods all the same. The highbloods wouldn't have anything to do with them. Neither of them had any illegal tendencies. She had to laugh to herself. She was making a big deal out of nothing, that was all.

By the time she crawled into her recuperacoon, she had herself convinced that her panicked feelings were absolutely nothing.

* * *

**Regular fic updates for all my fics will halt come November 1 and resume December 1. I am participating in NaNoWriMo again (considering the success, all 80k words of it, of the fic I wrote for NaNo last year), this time working on an actual novel.**

**Exciting.**


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